DISCLAIMER (STILL IMPORTANT!): I assume you read the disclaimer from the first chapter if you've ventured to the second. All of that still stands, no condemnation, no telling me to get my ass into a church. Expect the same level of humor and overall silliness in this chapter. Love it or hate it, I'm going to keep writing it. Oh, and this chapter is guaranteed to offend, perhaps more than the first. I apologize again for the offensive humor, religious, sexual, ethnic or otherwise. Sorry in advance!
Before anyone points it out, yes, I know the timetable is skewed. But for my purposes we're going to pretend that Judas turning Jesus in happened the same night as the Last Supper. Besides, I have a feeling that anyone who's reading this isn't going to nit-pick anyway.
Addition: I claim no ownership to the song "Hey Jude"; it is not mine nor will it ever be. But it makes for one hell of a gag here and there. Same with the Billboard Top 40 (just covering my ass here). Semi-spoiler for the ending of Monty Python's Life of Brian, too. And I apologize for all What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? references.
And I must give a great thanks to my dear friend Josie, who was the guinea pig for this story and who also came up with the title (waves Thankees Josie!).
Judas collapsed on the bench, his mouth agape. He had never felt so important or so screwed in all his life.
God scratched the back of his head. "Think I laid it on too thick?"
"Nah," Jesus said, "He'll get over it."
It took nearly a quarter of an hour for Judas to 'get over it.' He sat up and looked over at Jesus and said, "Some great master you've turned out to be. And thirty pieces of silver? I could sell myself into prostitution for more than that!"
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," God murmured.
"Thirty silver pieces for eternal damnation. I ought to price gouge."
"Completely out of the question," God said, "That's not in the book."
"But think of all the good you'll be doing for mankind by killing me," Jesus said, helping Judas up off the bench.
"The Spanish Inquisition, the Crusades, televangelists…," God said.
Jesus' mouth dropped to a frown. "Well now that you put it that way…."
God tisked. "Remember the book."
"Right, right," Jesus said, then turned again to Judas. "Everything will look better tomorrow."
"But the Last Supper is supposed to be tonight," God said.
"Oh. Well… you can always go back and add a time lapse, right?"
"I'm not sure the Protestants would care for that—slightly impatient people, you know?" God mused. "Ah well. I'll just make sure Luther gets a different edition."
"You can do that?" Jesus asked.
God shrugged. "I'm God, aren't I?"
"Touché," Jesus said as he led the slightly stunned Judas inside.
---
"Hey Jude!" Jesus called.
Still slightly groggy (and convinced the previous night was merely a wild hallucination induced by taking up Luke's dare to be the first to try Mary Magdalene's dubious-smelling appetizer), Judas sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. "Why'd you call me Jude?"
"Sounds catchy, you know? Like, I don't know… a Top 40 single, maybe."
Judas looked up to him, one eye slightly more open than the other. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing whatsoever," Jesus said, flinging open the curtains to reveal full daylight.
"Jeez, what time is it?" Judas said, wincing at the bright light.
"Jeez? Doesn't sound like much of a hit-maker to me."
Jesus and Judas looked at each other for a perplexed moment before God entered the room in a deafening roar of thunder.
"You're shameless, aren't you?" Jesus said.
God looked at him, eyebrow raised in confusion. "No, I'm God."
It took God a fair amount of time to convince Judas that a) he was not dreaming and b) Matthew had in fact tasted the appetizer first and had come out of it fine. But it did not lift Judas' dismal mood as he sat through the back and forth between Jesus and God.
God paused as he was reading through the gospels. "Well, what have we here? Interesting discrepancy."
"What is it?" Jesus asked, reading over his shoulder.
"It appears that there are at least two distinct ways described as to how Judas is supposed to die."
Judas wailed and buried his face in his arms. Jesus walked up to him and patted his shoulder. "There there, don't be such a drama queen. After all, we have Lucifer for that."
"And that means you even get to choose how you die," God added. "Or maybe that you die twice."
Judas didn't respond.
"Are you reading the English version? Try a different translation," Jesus said.
God snapped and the text of the book shifted from English to Greek. He paged through and intently read a few passages, smiling to himself.
"Look here, Judas! There appears to be a minor translation issue; let me check the Aramaic to be sure."
God snapped and the book was in Aramaic.
"It looks like the bit about your bowels bursting out could have a few different interpretations…" God closed the book and set it aside. "Well, I suppose it's up to you, then."
The sound of a pot crashing and someone yelling downstairs reached Jesus' ears. "Sounds like the Last Supper's about ready."
"It's up to you two now," God said as he stood and was about to leave. "And Jesus?"
"Yes Dad?"
"You are not to be crucified in drag. Don't pretend like you can't speak Aramaic either because your Spanish accent is horrible—besides, I think everyone has figured out that 'Jesus' and 'Haysoos' are the same person." God turned to leave again and then said, "And under no circumstances are you to sing whilst on the cross—you'll ruin the end of Life of Brian."
"Yes, Dad."
---
Judas soon found that the Last Supper was a little different than he had expected. For instance, there were seven disciples on Jesus' right and only five on his left on his side of the table—he figured someone would set it right eventually. And then there were the other disciples excluded from the twelve, but they were pushed to the sides, not being deemed important enough (or indeed pretty enough) to be included in any of the sketches done of the event.
"…one of you will betray me this evening…," Jesus said, thoroughly embroiled in the theatrics of the event, figuring he'd better make it good or no one would ever think to paint it later.
Judas coughed. Every head in the room turned to look at him and he shrank back. Eyes darting from side to side, he said, "W-what m-makes you think it's me?"
Mark shook his head and whispered to John, "I never have been able to trust a man who can't wear a beard properly."
Judas self-consciously touched the stubble on his face—he didn't think his beard was that bad.
Jesus cleared his throat for attention. He picked up a loaf of bread and broke it, followed by the wine—Judas wasn't really paying much attention to the speech, for he figured that he wouldn't hear the end of it for the next couple thousand years.
After being a little let down by the anti-climax that was the Last Supper (minus, of course, the drunken cancan towards the end), Judas shuffled out into the garden bearing a dejected grimace.
"It isn't as bad as you think."
Judas turned to see Lucifer lounging on a stone bench. Not at all bothered by the fact Judas was completely ignoring him, Lucifer continued.
"It's not all fire and brimstone down there like everyone would like to think. And a penthouse just opened up on the ninth level right next to Brutus and Cassius—they have some crazy parties. Sure, it's a little cold, but I just got a new heater installed."
Judas was not swayed. Brows knitted together in sadness, he said, "But I'm betraying my master."
Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. "You think God and I have always been on terms like this? Ugh, you wouldn't believe that man's ego. And when I finally get a chance to have some fun he always steps in and turns things on his terms."
"That's different. That is God you're talking about."
"God, Son of God—what's the difference?"
Judas looked up at Lucifer and said, "Well, if I'm going to do this thing, now's the time."
"Good boy," Lucifer said, offering him a helping hand up. "I'll go with you."
Judas found it to be quite an embarrassing experience to be walking down the streets of the town with Satan himself. Not only did he elicit a near uproar (who wouldn't when walking down the street with a cloven-footed man), but Lucifer insisted upon winking and blowing kisses at every young man they passed.
"I do love slumming, don't you?" Lucifer said as he waved to a dark-haired boy who looked like he was about to be sick.
"I'd appreciate if you didn't do that."
"What, and miss my one opportunity to flirt without the Big Man breathing down my neck? He's so busy at the Last Supper that he's hardly looking my way," Lucifer chuckled. "I haven't had this much fun since Job."
Lucifer stood outside the building as Judas entered, not wanting to imagine what may transpire while he was inside. His entire body felt numb as he stuttered out Jesus' location; his fingertips unfeeling as the small pouch of silver was dropped into them. Stumbling out the steps as if in a dream, Judas happened upon Lucifer making full use of his forked tongue. Pretending as if he had seen nothing, Judas turned the other way and headed back to the Last Supper.
A plume of smoke billowed before Judas and a sulking Lucifer appeared. He heaved a great sigh and said, "Some people just don't appreciate me. I always was the pretty one, you know—I think God has always been a little jealous."
"I'm sure," Judas muttered.
"So anyway, this entire betraying the Son of God thing… why don't you do something dramatic to point him out?"
"Like what?"
"Something that would be great in the iconography… like… groping him."
"Lucifer!" God's voice sounded from the heavens. "That's not in the book."
"So what?" Lucifer shouted back. "It's hot."
God appeared before the two of them, a sandaled food tapping in impatience. "I told you to guide him, not pervert him."
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Well, what did you expect? If I wasn't lord of the underworld…."
"But cha aah, Lucifer, ya aah lord of the underworld."
Looking slightly offended, Lucifer took a step back and said, "That was the honest-to-badness worst Baby Jane impression I have ever had the displeasure of hearing."
God straightened himself up and looked over at Judas. "Ignore him, Jude. He's just an old queen. His Bette Davis impression isn't any better."
"I can do one hell of a Garbo, though."
God looked back at Lucifer and said, "That's enough for tonight. Judas can make it from here on his own."
"What time am I supposed to be at the crucifixion tomorrow?" Lucifer asked.
"Towards the end might be better," God said, "And remember what we talked about."
"Right, no inducing singing."
Lucifer disappeared with that, leaving an awkward silence between God and Judas.
God cleared his throat and slowly said, "Well, ah, you'd better get to it, huh?"
Judas bowed his head and walked into the building where the Last Supper had disbanded. A few disciples were still left passed out in the room; Judas walked over and tidily removed Paul's face from the punch bowl and rested him on the table.
He found Jesus out in the courtyard meditating. He didn't dare approach and instead held back, watching the utter stillness of his form.
It was not long before the guards arrived. Judas dutifully led the way out into the courtyard before Jesus and, ignoring Lucifer's guidance, merely placed a kiss on Jesus' cheek. Jesus stood and took Judas by the shoulders—he didn't say a word but instead smashed his mouth against Judas', tongue and all.
Judas reeled backwards, looking utterly stunned. Jesus shrugged and said, "Well, had to get rid of all that homoerotic tension somehow." The guards grabbed Jesus and bound his arms behind his back. "Just strike that bit from the record, 'kay Dad?"
"I have the feeling I let you get away with too much," God's celestial voice muttered.
Judas stood still in the night air, watching Jesus being carted off by the soldiers. His heart was heavy and he collapsed onto the ground, where he began to weep.